


Every bit of you

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bathtubs, F/M, Kissing, Love Confessions, Nudity, Penis Size
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin accidentally walks in on the woman he loves in the bath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every bit of you

The hot water seemed to wash away the worries from your mind along with the dirt from your body as you sank into the large, copper tub. 

Though you had no love for the Master of Laketown, with his leering winks and his greasy, toadying secretary, you were more than happy to enjoy the creature comforts of his house, where the company had been given temporary lodgings, and you’d leaped at the offer of a bath after supper. A white bar of spicy-scented soap stood ready in a porcelain dish on a small table beside the bathtub, but you were happy for the time being just to revel in the luxury of a proper bath after months of splashing yourself haphazardly with cold water from rivers and creeks. Sliding down until you’d dunked your head beneath the water, you rose up again, slicked your wet locks away from your face and lay back to loll in the steaming water, resting your head on the tub’s rolled edge and closing your eyes in sweet relaxation, quite sure that nothing could improve upon this moment.

* * *

Dwalin quietly made his way down the corridor on the upper floor of the Master’s house, mentally repeating “ _third door on the left._ ” The evening’s festivities had at last come to a close, which was just as well for him, he reflected ruefully, feeling every year of his age. He was tired, his body battered from being rattled about in a barrel, just like the apples of which it still smelled, and his ego equally bruised by that prancing elf using his head for a step-stool. His bones ached with the cold and damp of this gloomy town, and he found himself yearning more than ever for the snug caverns and hot springs of Erebor. 

Feeling cheered by the prospect of a long soak and a good night’s sleep, he carefully turned the handle of the bathroom door, mindful not to disturb his companions in the neighboring chambers, and stopped inside the small anteroom, in which were long, wooden benches stacked with clean towels and a row of hooks on the wall. He quickly stripped off his clothes, leaving them to hang on the nearest hook, and, throwing a towel jauntily over his shoulder, stepped into the adjoining room where the bathtub awaited.

He froze.

There she lay, eyes closed in repose, arms lazily draped over the tub’s sides, her hair falling in damp waves about her bare shoulders and the water lapping over the lush, glossy curves of her bosom that broke its surface, looking for all the world like some sort of river goddess, a beauty he’d only imagined.

He should leave, and quickly. It was wrong, dishonorable, to stand and ogle her uninvited, and yet he was transfixed by the sight of her smooth skin and the foolish fantasy of its softness under his hands. After all, how many times had he dreamt of touching her, of her hands on him, of being bare and unashamed by her side? It was his body’s response, that familiar, swelling longing in his groin, that awakened him abruptly from his trancelike state and moved him to flee in shame before she might see him there.

He turned, taking a tentative step toward the door, and the whining creak of a loose floorboard shattered the silence in the room.

* * *

Your eyes flew open with a start at the squeaking sound and immediately met Dwalin’s. With a yelp, you scrambled to your feet, seizing the towel you’d laid beside the tub and draping it around your body to shield your nakedness from his view, clapping your hand over your hammering heart.

Dwalin made an equally panicked movement to step behind the chair in the corner where your clothes were piled, wrapping his own towel about his waist in a hasty attempt to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was nearly as shrill as the creaking board as you tucked the end of the towel into itself, securing it at your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” Dwalin answered miserably, gripping the back of the chair as though he might need to use it as a shield. “I only came for a bath…had no idea you were here. The housemaid told me she’d draw water for me.”

“She told _me_ she’d draw it for _me_ ,” you frowned, and as you stood staring at each other in utter confusion, naked but for flimsy towels, a giggle suddenly bubbled up from your throat. Dwalin ventured a low chuckle himself, and your mortification dissolved into a small, amused shrug. “I suppose it’s a wonder we haven’t seen each other bare before now, as long as we’ve been traveling, and with all of…” As you spoke, your eyes strayed for the first time below his waist and widened, your voice trailing off into a small, “ _oh_.”

You were reasonably certain he hadn’t brought any of his weapons with him to the bath, and yet the bulge straining at the towel’s valiant effort to contain it was larger than any fleshly endowment you’d ever seen or imagined. When it twitched beneath your fascinated stare, you quickly collected yourself and averted your eyes upward to the wall, the ceiling, anywhere but Dwalin, now flushed to the tips of his ears.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, reaching to cover himself with his hands in embarrassment and stepping closer to the chair and what poor concealment it provided.

“No, don’t be,” you blurted abruptly, finding that your own cheeks were aflame with the pleasant agitation that stirred you, adding shyly, “I can’t say I’m not flattered.”

“Oh, lass, you’ve no idea,” he chuckled ruefully.

“Of what?”

Dwalin’s eyes met yours, and he swallowed hard. “Of how I think of you.”

A warm, tingling pleasure spiraled through your core, and a delighted smile plucked at your lips as you repeated, “you think of me?”

“Aye,” he admitted, his expression softening to wistful tenderness. “Some days, I can scarcely think of anything _but_ you.” 

As though a spell had broken, he shook his head and went on, more briskly. “But never you mind about that…just an old man’s foolishness. You deserve a young lad in his prime, like Fili or Kili…someone with more hair and fewer scars,” he finished, with a brief, mirthless laugh, running his fingers studiously over the carved wooden back of the chair, avoiding your gaze.

You stared at him as though he were mad, and perhaps he was. How could he believe you wouldn’t want him? Countless shared moments – your shoulder pressed to his while you joked beside the campfire, whispered stories to pass the hours during night watches, the times you’d saved each other’s lives with a well-timed thrust of a blade, the sparring matches that you knew he’d let you win because he couldn’t bring himself to hurt you – flashed before your eyes and your heart swelled, and you crossed the room with tears pricking your eyelids to take his face in your hands, feel his coarse whiskers beneath your palms, look adoringly into his face.

“Dwalin, you’re a fool,” you murmured, and rising on tiptoes, you kissed him, desperately, recklessly, with all the passion you could summon.

For the second time that night, Dwalin was awestruck, and his hands grasped your shoulders, gently parting you from him as he looked wonderingly into your eyes. “D’you mean it?” A grin began to spread over his face. “Can you truly care for an old goat like me?”

Your mouth curved into a matching grin, and by way of answer, you again pressed your lips to his, winding your arms around his neck, and his hands crept to your back, tentatively at first, but clasping you closer as his lips moved with your own in a joyful, yearning dance.

“Oh, my beauty…my _ghivâshel_ ,” he sighed against your cheek. “I do love you.”

“And I love you, Dwalin,” you answered, dipping your head to brush a kiss over a jagged scar just above his collarbone. “Every bit of you.”

He was beaming when your eyes met his again, and bent to bestow a ticklish kiss on the tip of your nose. “I reckon we should thank the housemaid for being forgetful,” he teased, a playful twinkle coming into his eyes.

With an airy chuckle, you nodded and glanced toward the bath, tugging him gently by the hand. “Well… _I_ reckon the tub is big enough for two.”

Dwalin’s breath caught audibly in his throat when you slowly unwrapped your towel, exposing your body to his worshipful gaze once again, and stepped into the tub with a smile of invitation on your lips. 

There was a charming bashfulness in the gruff warrior’s manner as he removed his own towel and folded it, hanging it neatly on the back of the chair, and it was your turn to give a small gasp at your first sight of the formidable gifts with which Mahal had blessed him. He paused, hesitant and not a little concerned. “Are you all right, darlin’?”

“Better than ever, _amrâlimê_ ,” you assured him, feeling giddy with the heady cocktail of desire, joy, and nervousness that made every cell in your body feel alive. Your fingers itched to touch him, your skin cried out for the caress of his hands and the warmth of his embrace. “Join me…the water’s wonderful.”

He eased himself into the water with a long sigh of contentment and lounged back against the opposite end of the tub, facing you with a mischievous grin that turned into a chuckle as he ran a thumb over the vulnerable sole of your foot where it was draped over his thigh, making you jump and laugh scoldingly at him.

You sat up and reached for the bar of soap, working it between your hands and moving forward to sit between his brawny thighs, seeing his chest heave and the apple of his throat bob as you began to slowly swipe the creamy lather over his shoulders with your palms. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, and you leaned to kiss them lightly.

“Now, you just relax,” you smiled, trailing soapsuds over his chest with your hands. “I promise I won’t miss a spot.”


End file.
